


making the best of it

by just a lonely archivist (sunderlands)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Martin-typical self-loathing, Pre-Relationship, Set after s01e22: Colony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunderlands/pseuds/just%20a%20lonely%20archivist
Summary: It's not all bad, living in the Archives.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	making the best of it

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say? i love martin and i love him agonizing about jon. that weird period in their relationship after colony? effervescent, but sorely lacking in martin pov. how could i resist?
> 
> enjoy!

It’s not all bad, living in the Archives. The lack of privacy is probably the worst part, but it’s not like he does much that requires privacy anyway. It’d be nice if he could record his poetry without worrying that someone is going to burst in at any moment, but—well. It could be worse. He supposes that it’s not exactly great to be reduced to eating mostly takeaway, since the kitchenette in the break room isn’t even equipped to hold a bunch of ready meals, let alone for him to _cook_ _,_ but it’s better than eating all the canned goods out of his pantry, at least.

The worms haven’t stopped trying to get into the Archives, but he’s safer here than he was at home, so he’s not sure that even counts as a negative. Chuck that into the neutral pile.

There are plenty of positives about the situation, too. For one, he’s saving on his commute to work, which…okay, that’s mostly something he tells himself when he’s particularly annoyed that he can’t _leave_ work, but it’s not untrue. He’d also stocked up on his favorite teas over the past several months, for convenience, and he could really kiss his past self for being so brilliant. Not being relegated to the off-brand tea that someone had apparently brought in several years ago, judging by how positively _stale_ it had tasted the one time he made it, has definitely been a blessing.

Perhaps the best thing, though, is–

“Martin?”

He jumps, just a little; he’s mostly gotten used to hearing that voice outside of work hours. “Yes, Jon?”

Jon’s frowning slightly, but not in the way that Martin was used to before this, not in the way that makes Martin sure he’s screwed something up, _again_ _._ It’s a thoughtful sort of look, one that makes a horrible little bloom of warmth spread through his chest, completely uninvited. “Just letting you know that I’m about to leave. Are you going to be alright?”

He asks that most days before he goes home and sometimes, Martin thinks about saying ‘no’. If he did, Jon might offer to stay with him for a bit, sit on the edge of the bed he’s letting Martin use and make awkward small talk, because Jon is _t_ _errible_ at small talk, or he might think out loud about everything that’s been going on, the way he’s been prone to doing lately when he doesn’t realize there are other people around. He might offer to eat a late dinner with him (Martin gets the feeling that Jon hasn’t really _been_ eating) and Martin could maybe ask Jon if he knows how to cook, which would lead to Martin jokingly offering to cook for him sometime after all of this is over, as a thank you. Maybe Jon would even know that he’s not actually joking and say yes. 

Or maybe he’d just tell him to call Tim or Sasha. It’s hard to predict with Jon, especially lately, and as much as he wants to find out–

“Yeah, I’m all good here, thanks.” He offers a smile that’s mostly genuine.

“Alright,” Jon says, sounding a little uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Right, see you.” Jon starts to turn away and Martin doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but before he’s actually left, he says, “Oh, wait, could you actually- would you let me know when you get home? I’ve been asking the others to do it, too. It just makes me feel…better. To know.” It’s a safe lie, he thinks, because Jon would never think to ask Tim or Sasha to confirm, and anyway, _they’re_ not the ones who are being threatened with a ‘crimson fate’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. 

He seems a little surprised at the question and for a brief, horrible moment, Martin wonders if that was too much, if he’s stumbled over some sort of invisible line like the clumsy fool he is. It’s a normal thing to ask of a friend, but they’re not really _friends_ _,_ are they? Jon’s just his boss and he doesn’t even really like him, so maybe he thinks that’s weird and he’ll realize– “Yes, I can do that.”

Jon sounds a bit awkward, but not the faintest like he’s annoyed or suspicious; Martin barely holds back his sigh of relief. Then his eyebrows furrow, like he’s working through an inexplicable statement, and the anxiety starts to bubble up again. This whole “Jon not immediately treating him with barely-veiled disdain” thing has been something of a roller coaster for him because it feels so _tenuous_ _,_ predicated on not a small amount of pity for what Martin’s been going through, and it’s a little– a _lot_ awful to think that things could go back to the way they used to be at any moment. He really, really doesn’t want it to go back to that.

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately,” Jon says slowly, like he’s still figuring out the words even as he’s saying them. “So if you need to…to talk to anyone, I’m. Well, you have my number.”

 _Oh_ _._ Martin prays that his face isn’t as red as it feels, fidgeting a bit with the teacup in his hands. “Oh, I- thank you, that’s really, um, that’s really nice of you. It does get a bit lonely sometimes.”

And because it’s still Jon, his expression twists uncomfortably when he replies, “Right, well. Good night, Martin.”

“Good night, Jon.” It’s pathetic. He _knows_ it’s pathetic, but he can’t help thinking sometimes that it’s almost worth it, having been attacked and besieged by– by _whatever_ Jane Prentiss is now, when it means Jon treats him like this. When it means that Jon _worries_ about him. Not that he _wants_ Jon to be worried, but it’s, well, it’s a step up from how things were before. It means Jon maybe doesn’t _hate_ him, and that’s–

 _Pathetic_ _._ Martin scrubs at his face with his hands, a heavy sigh escaping him. So what if Jon checks in on him most nights and looks more concerned than annoyed? Jon would be like that with anyone in these circumstances, because despite Tim’s jokes, Jon _is_ human, and that’s what humans _do_ _._ None of this makes him special, it just makes him the idiot who got _into_ these circumstances by accidentally antagonizing an evil worm lady in the vain hope of earning his crush’s approval.

Still, that doesn’t stop the little flutter his heart gives when he gets a text about a half hour later that says: _I’m home._

 _Thanks :)_ _,_ he shoots back, before tentatively adding, _Have a good night._

_Thank you. You too._

Maybe he’s allowed to be a little more pathetic than usual right now, being under duress and all that. Maybe, as long as he remembers that this doesn’t mean anything and that he has a higher chance of going to the moon than he does of Jon ever liking him back, it’s okay to be happy that Jon might, possibly, be starting to think of him as a friend. Instead of sleeping (not that he’s been sleeping that much _anyway_ _,_ he and Jon have that in common), Martin pulls out his notebook and gets started on a new poem about dark eyes filled with subtle kindness and a soft voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He’s been writing a lot of new poetry, lately.


End file.
